Race To The Finish
by Marivan
Summary: Elizabeth Bennet has always been able to outrun the competition, even most of the boys. Yet when Lizzy meets the arrogant William Darcy, try as she might, she can't seem to leave him in the dust. A Modern P&P. Will remain unfinished.
1. Chapter 1

**Race To The Finish - Chapter 1**

"_Some days you're a bug, and some days you're a windshield." – Prince Cobb

* * *

_

"Come _ON_, Lizzy, we're gonna be late! And it's you who wanted to get there early!" Jane shouted, as her twin raced down the stairs. Lizzy slid to a halt in front of Jane, tennis shoes dangling by the laces from one hand.

"Do you have _any_ idea where my iPod is?" Lizzy panted. Jane shot her sister an extremely peeved look.

"No Lizzy, I don't know where your iPod is," Jane replied, sounding rather like the mother of a young child, "Why do you-"

"Bingo!" Lizzy interrupted her sister, as she began hurtling back up the stairs. Jane only rolled her eyes at her sister's antics. A moment later, Lizzy burst back down the staircase, her tennis shoes miraculously in their proper place and waving her iPod triumphantly in one hand. Jane couldn't help but smile affectionately at the scene, her sister's brown messy curls bouncing around as she moved.

"Do you think we've got enough food for everybody?" Jane asked.

Lizzy looked at the boxes of bagels and fruit and the coffee thermos sitting neatly on the floor by the door, and didn't understand how her sister could think it inadequate. "Seriously, it's fine. Thanksgiving isn't for another two days, but you could have fooled me. Let's roll," Lizzy said as she started towards the door.

"You carry the bagels," Jane replied matter-o-factly, handing Lizzy the box. She harrumphed, but took the box anyway. Jane opened the door one handed, displaying a natural balancing talent that Lizzy could only dream of, (they were fraternal twins after all, and Jane got the balance gene, that was for sure) and stepped outside. Lizzy followed her. Dumping the food in the back seat of Lizzy's sedan, both girls climbed into the car, with Jane taking the driver's seat.

"So, who do you think will be there?" Lizzy asked nonchalantly as they pulled out of their driveway. Lizzy was glad to escape their parent's for at least a couple hours. Every time she returned home, the modest house, though situated on a rather large piece of suburban property, seemed to suffocate her. Lizzy blamed it on her mother's twittering, nervous demeanor. Still, she was glad to be out of there, especially with the prospect of seeing old friends in front of them.

"Charles, will be," Jane replied. Lizzy rolled her eyes.

"How could I forget?" she shot back.

"_Lizzy,_" Jane said in a strained way and Lizzy promptly shut her mouth. After a moment of silence Jane continued, "Well, Charlotte will be there, and a bunch of old soccer girls, and I dunno, perhaps some of the guys'll show, but it wouldn't be beyond them to sleep in…"

"How true," Lizzy mumbled.

"…So it should be a pretty good group for the run."

"Cool." There was a pause.

"I'm excited to see Charles," Jane exclaimed wistfully.

Lizzy smiled at the pure happiness on her sister's face, "I know you are, Jane," she said seriously, but then, in a lighter, slightly sarcastic tone, "because, I mean, you haven't seen him in _soo_ long."

"_Lizzy_." The exasperation in Jane's voice was evident. "You know someday you're going to find someone who sweeps you off your feet, and where will you be then?"

"Oh, Jane," Lizzy replied, grinning mischievously, "that day will be a long time coming, and until then I am going to milk all of the lovey-dovey relationships for all the humor they're worth."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Remind me again why we're getting to school early," she said.

"You know," Lizzy replied, "I think it's rather amusing how you still refer to good ole Cecil Howard High School as just 'school.' I'm mean you're a senior. In college." She paused. "But, to answer your question, I wanted to run a couple intervals and do a little stretching before we go on _the _run," Lizzy said pulling at the spandex under her shorts. "I also thought you might like the time to have all your food and coffee and stuff set up and perfectly in order, my little miss perfectionist." Jane smiled shyly at her sister's teasing and tucked a stray wisp of blonde hair behind her ear, not taking her eyes from the road.

"If I didn't know any better," Jane said thoughtfully, "I'd think you were still playing varsity sports from all the running and stuff you do. I don't know how you have the time."

"How do you have the time to go on dates with Charles?" Lizzy retorted.

"Fine, fine. Point conceded, Sis." Lizzy smiled and pumped her fist in fake triumph. "Do you know how much you get on my nerves sometimes, Lizzy?" Jane continued.

"Oh course," Lizzy shot back, a smile creeping onto her face, "twin telepathy, duh." Both girls were overcome by a fit of giggles.

The car rolled up to a stoplight, the sisters were looking at each other, as if daring the other to stop laughing first, though Jane seemed to be loosing because her giggles had already morphed into the silent variety. As Lizzy was staring at her sister, a large black vehicle came to a halt beside their little sedan. Lizzy soured at the sight of such a car, her face contorting into a scowl. The light turned green.

"Lizzy, are you okay?" asked a concerned Jane as she pulled away from the stoplight.

"Yes, yes of course, it's just-" Lizzy glanced up at the windows of the black behemoth driving beside them, "well, it's a lot of things. Number one – the car beside us is probably the most excessive, repulsive car anyone could drive. A Cadillac escalade! Dude, it's not like the bigger the Cadillac the cooler you are. Number two – Despite being ungodly expensive, it probably gets like 2 miles to the gallon, so it has to be a Conservative freak who doesn't believe in global warming. And Number three- the front, side windows are way more tinted than is legal."

"Geesh, Liz," Jane exclaimed, "It's just a car. As your older and wiser sister, I command you to calm down."

"By two minutes!" Lizzy replied, but most, though not all, of her steam over the Escalade was gone. It was after all just a car. Jane had always had a calming effect on her sister.

"That is two minutes worth more of life experience, my darling sister, than you have." She paused. "How did you know the windshield thing anyway?"

"Well," Lizzy said, smiling broadly, "I have a photographic memory, and I happened to remember from the drivers manual we had to read before we got our driver's permits that maximum legal tinting blocks out 35% of light, and that was totally darker than that, because I couldn't see practically anything on the inside."

Jane was so incredulous she actually stared at her sister for a good two or three seconds before turning her eyes back on the road. "How the heck did you remember that?"

"Well," Lizzy said, stretching the word for all it was worth, "I read the driver's manual about the same time I read the part in Twilight where they take the car with illegally tinted windows to Arizona so the vampires don't sparkle. Let's just say it made an impression."

"I'll say," Jane chuckled.

"Are we there yet?" Lizzy asked teasingly.

"Lizzy, we're just driving to school. It only takes 15 minutes to get there." Jane replied.

"You are always the voice of reason," Lizzy said fondly.

"And you know it," Jane replied, a slightly smug look on her face.

Lizzy smiled. This was looking to be pretty good day.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for reading. This just the begining, but if you liked it or you thought it could be better (or both) I'd love to know. In other words, please review._


	2. Chapter 2

**Race To The Finish - Chapter 2**

_"A good relationship is like fireworks: loud, explosive, and liable to maim you, if you hold on too long" – Jeph Jacques

* * *

_

The autumn air was crisp, but not too cold. The sun was casting some of its last rays down to earth before the clouds decided to obscure it for the winter. All in all, it was just the kind of weather Lizzy had hoped for.

Dropping off her box of bagels dutifully at Jane's designated location, Lizzy had full reign of the track. Cozy in an old Howard High School sweatshirt, she set off running a set of intervals, learned in her stint in Fitness class her Freshman year – walk 100, slow jog 100, fast jog 100, sprint 100, repeat. The upbeat tunes of _Kiss Me Kate_ were flowing through her ear buds, and as her muscles churned away, she couldn't help but reminisce. High school, she thought, hadn't been nearly as traumatic as everyone always said it was. She made at least average grades, usually better than average, had fun, played sports, and moved on. Chick lit was so overrated.

Suddenly, Lizzy spotted a blur in her peripheral vision, and was accosted by figure topped by a messy light brown ponytail.

"Lizzy!" the figure squealed in close proximity to Lizzy's ear.

"Geesh, Char, not so close to the ear!" Lizzy responded.

"Your not happy to see me?" Lizzy's best friend since middle school asked, a mock frown upon her face.

"Oh," said Lizzy playfully, "of course I am happy to see you, Charlotte Lucas, but I must say I do value my hearing, too, you know." Charlotte pursed her lips and smiled at the same time. It was a rather ridiculous expression, in Lizzy's opinion.

"I have _missed _you, Lizzy," Charlotte said, in all seriousness.

"I can tell," she replied sincerely. "Hey, I was just about to do some stretching, you wanna join? You can have an ear bud."

"Sure." The two began to jog out to the center of the football field. "Whatcha listening to?" Charlotte asked as she bent double at the waist, stretching her hamstrings.

"Guess…" Lizzy replied coyly and handed her friend an ear bud. Charlotte straightened out to an upright position, and stood still for a second, before promptly bursting into song.

"_Brush up your Shakespeare, start quoting him now. Brush up your Shakespeare and the women you will wow…_"

Lizzy was unable to help herself. She two began to sing at the top of her lungs, skipping around in circles. All semblance of stretching was forgotten.

Soon enough, though, the song came to an end. Glancing over beyond the fence that encircled the track, Lizzy saw that a group was beginning to form. She threw her arm around Charlotte's shoulder.

"You know what, girlie," Lizzy said, somewhat out of breath, "I've missed doing that. Let's just say, the neighbors in my dorm don't exactly condone singing along loudly to the soundtracks of musicals." Charlotte smiled and laughed heartily, "Shall we head over and be sociable?" Lizzy said, nodding to the growing group of friends.

"Sure. Why not."

Drawing near the group, Lizzy was once again accosted by an old friend. This time it was Richard Fitzwilliam, whom Lizzy had always called Fitz, and his messy mop of black hair. He always claimed he was related to Pele, but nobody ever really believed him, though it did explain the crazy mad soccer skills. Drawing back from his embrace, Fitz tossed his head to the side, getting his bangs out his eyes.

"Fancy seeing you here Lizzy! And Charlotte!" he exclaimed, bursting with excitement like the proverbial kid in a candy shop. "How are you? How have you been? By the way, Jane's coffee is delicious. How excited are you for Alumni Soccer tomorrow?"

"First of all," Lizzy said, cutting off Fitz's exuberant stream of babble, "who was the brilliant soul who let him have caffeine this early in the morning? Second, my foot eye coordination is 0 to none, so what do you think?"

"Well, I'm excited," Charlotte said, " I do hope we keep this whole campus loop tradition next year, when everybody's out of college and stuff."

"Yup, yup, ditto, ditto," Fitz replied. He paused and cocked his head to the side, "Is that why you always played Lax in the spring, Liz?"

"Wow. You _just_ figured that out?" she asked him back.

"Uh, yeah," he said sheepishly. "Hey Jane!" he called over Charlotte's shoulder, "come join the party!" Jane, who was walking their direction, quickened her pace.

"Hey Fitz!" she called, coming up by Charlotte's side, the one that was not occupied by Lizzy.

"Was it you who gave him the caffeine?" Charlotte stage whispered in her ear. Jane nodded.

"Tsk, Tsk, Sis. I thought you knew better than that," Lizzy scolded.

Jane smiled shyly. "He asked so nicely though," she said. "Have any of you seen Charlie?"

"Nope."

"Nope, sorry, Sis."

"Bingley? Nah, everyone's favorite ginger hasn't seemed to make his appearance yet."

However, just as Fitz finished his sentence, his attention was diverted out to the parking lot. "Dude! Look at that sick Escalade that just drove into the lot," He exclaimed. "Who do you suppose it is?"

"Well, if this were an ironic world, it would be Charles, just because we were just talking about him," Charlotte replied. At this conjecture, Jane's attention piqued, and she strained to get a better glimpse of the car.

A realization hit Lizzy over the head. "Jane," Lizzy said softly, "isn't that the same car with the tinted windows that stopped next to us on the way here?"

"You know, I think it just might be," Jane softly replied to her sister.

"Dagnabbit!" Lizzy exclaimed, "Why do I always do that!"

"Do what?" Charlotte inquired inquisitively.

"Never mind," Lizzy said quickly.

The black behemoth had pulled into a parking space, and the driver's door opened. Out stepped a lanky, dark harried man, who was unfamiliar. Lizzy noticed that their little group was not the only group starring curiously at the car and it's driver. Whispers raced through the crowd. But then, Charles, occasionally called 'Charlie,' Bingley, with his characteristic messy carrot colored hair, rounded the backside of the vehicle. Catching sight of the assembled crowd, he waved jovially and made to join the assembly of old friends. His accomplice followed behind him, sullenly. Jane rushed to Charles and gave him an affectionate hug. Charles took his girlfriend's hand and led her back to Charlotte, Fitz, and Lizzy. The Dark One, as Lizzy had deemed him, in her head, followed them.

As could be expected, Charles was gushing with friendliness and joviality. "My oh my, how are all my old friends doing? I've been so negligent about keeping touch…" Each replied, in their own way, that they were well, however The Dark One, cut them off.

"You know, Bingley," he said, "if you really cared about your friends you would find the time to keep in touch." _The temerity_ thought Lizzy critically _so say such a thing in front a group of new acquaintances._

"Oh my," Bingley exclaimed, "I have been abominably rude. This," he said, gesturing to The Dark One, "is my dear friend Darcy. A friend from Northwestern."

"Nice to meet you," Lizzy greeted him, extending her hand. He nodded stiffly, but did not venture to shake her hand. Awkwardly, Lizzy withdrew her extended hand, and stuffed it in the pocket of her shorts. As the others made their, equally as stiff introductions, Lizzy glanced up at the clock above the football stands.

"Hey everybody!" she called to the crowd of 25 or so classmates gathered. "Well, it's a little after nine o'clock, so I say we should get going on our campus run. Alumni Soccer is, after all, tomorrow," she paused to allow the cheers and whoops from the likes of Fitz, "and so, in honor of all our coaches, no matter your sport, who made us run campus loops to ensure our conditioning was always in tip top shape, let's go!"

Lizzy set off at a run, and the group followed her. She was gonna take the typical route: behind the district office building, around the tennis courts, past the maintenance building, a lap around the perimeter of each of the two soccer fields, back around the tennis courts, around the practice football field, through the quadrangle, down to the little pond, up to the field hockey field, around the perimeter of the baseball diamond's outfield, and back to the football field and track.

Lizzy was at the head of the group, and as they began to run, she was surprised to find Darcy, The Dark One, keeping pace with her. He was fishing around in the pocket of his shorts, and extracted an iPod. He made to put in his ear buds, but was interrupted by Lizzy.

"Darcy, right?" she asked.

"Correct," he replied tersely.

"You run with us, you follow our rules," she told him. His brow furrowed.

"No iPods, walkmans, radios, or other distraction device," she pronounced decidedly, "We're all in this together, buster. No point isolating yourself."

"But you have your iPod," he said motioning to the white loop of wire hanging out of her pocket.

"That I'm not _using_."

"Fine," he spat back, and stuffed the music player back in his pocket. He slowed his pace, so as to not run next to her. This, Lizzy was perfectly fine with.

Several minutes later, Jane appeared beside her sister at the front of the pack. Lizzy was glad to see her.

"Hey Sis! How ya doin'?" Lizzy called.

"Okay. You?" Jane asked in return.

"Just fine and dandy," Lizzy replied cheerfully.

"Only you." Jane said, shaking her head, as her sister's cheerfulness.

"So, did Charles tell you anything about The Dark One?" Lizzy enquired.

"The Dark One?"

"This Darcy guy," Lizzy clarified. "Does the man even have a first name? Or is he some hot shot who only needs one name?" Lizzy saw Jane's brow furrow. "Like Madonna."

"Well, Charles told me that his name is William Darcy, and that Charles first met him at that summer camp he went to in middle school, up in Minnesota. Apparently, his mom was British, so he got accepted to Cambridge right out of High School, but his Dad fell really ill recently, so he transferred to Northwestern, to be nearer to his father. Or something like that."

"Ah. Well," Lizzy said slowly, " that still doesn't explain why he's A) completely and intolerably rude to everyone, or B) why he drives an Escalade. However, is does explain why he's a complete and utter arrogant, pigheaded female dog."

"_Lizzy_," Jane admonished, "you hardly, know the man. He could be very pleasant…"

"I know enough of him, to know that he is _not_ pleasant," Lizzy shot back. Jane was about to reproach her sister's attidtud, but stopped. She had lived with Lizzy long enough to know that once set on something, there was no changing Lizzy. She was more stubborn than the most stubborn Missouri mule.

Running silently next to her sister, Lizzy thanked her lucky stars for the second time that hour. This Darcy creature would scuttle on back to Chicago and she would never have to see him again.

* * *

_A/N: Thank You for reading. Just in case you were wondering, the quotations at the begining of each chapter are just little bits of wisdom. They are only semi relevant, and meant really just for fun. Also, Fitz and Darcy are not related this modernisation. And keep the reviews coming, I really appreciate your feedback._


	3. Chapter 3

**Race To The Finish - Chapter 3**

_"Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months." –Oscar Wilde

* * *

_

It was here. The day of Alumni Soccer was actually here. Lizzy didn't know if she wanted to kick herself or go back to sleep.

A pillow collided with her head. Her decision had been made. That is, her decision had been made for her.

"Elizabeth Bennet," her sister called, trying very hard to sound stern, though she was failing rather miserably, "if you don't get up this instant the next thing to be thrown at you will be a soccer ball."

"No kidding," Lizzy replied groggily, as she sat up in bed. Curly tendrils of dark hair shot in all directions. She'd been Medusa for Halloween once. Easiest comstume ever; She just wore a toga and didn't brush her hair all day. Lizzy probed her hair to discover the extent of the damage. This morning her hair was abnormally messy. Figures.

But before she could do anything about it, Lizzy had to get her sister off her case. "If you'd just leave me alone, I'll be ready in 10 minutes flat," she parleyed.

"Really?" Jane asked, looking over her half asleep sister skeptically, "Only 10 minutes?"

"Yes," Lizzy snapped, "if you'd _leave me alone._"

"Fine," Jane replied curtly, smiling widely as she turned on her heel to leave. Lizzy assumed the smile was not really for her (a certain red-head was probably more likely) as she unwillingly pushed away her comforter and rose from the bed. Her room was the same as always: white washed walls, white washed matching furniture and piles of clothes strewn across the floor, in various states of disarray. It was organized chaos, and Lizzy was rather fond of it, especially because it drove her mother and older sister nuts.

Lizzy grabbed a clean tee shirt from one of the clean piles, with the words "Howard Lax" emblazoned on the front, and a pair of comfy Under Armour leggings, over which she layered a pair of running shorts. In a final attempt at silent protest, she threw her favorite sweatshirt over the top. On the front of it were the words, "Howard Hockey," and the across the back it said, "Hoorah." No one would mistake her for a soccer player, she was sure of it.

With two of her allotted 10 minutes already passed, Lizzy turned to tackle her mop of hair.

-x-

Upon venturing out of doors, both sisters realized they had been blessed with another gorgeous autumn day: crisp and cool.

Though this weather was delightful to run around in, it had the unfortunate side effect of making Lizzy's bum, which was seated against a chilly metal bleacher, almost numb. But she grinned and bearded it. She had run into a bunch of old friends before the game, but when they ventured on to the field, Lizzy was one of the few who ventured into the stands.

The game, as far as she could tell, seemed pretty even, though they were only 5 minutes into the half. Nobody had scored yet, even though the goalie for the team both Charles and Jane were playing for was about 50 years old and his belly fat jiggled when he made a diving save. Lizzy had tried very hard not to laugh.

However, her mood, which had been impassive up to this point, soured substantially at the sight of a particular dark haired man. The Dark One was back. Making his way up the bleachers, he apparently decided the space of cold aluminum directly to her right looked like the most comfortable seat. Lizzy groaned as he sat down next to her. Out of all the empty bleacher seats he just _had_ to pick the one right next to her. And he just sat there, not making any attempt to even greet her. No "good morning," no "hello." Apparently Mr. I-drive-an-Escalade-and-scorn-the-human-species-as-a-whole preferred to be silent and taciturn. Joy.

After several minutes of awkward silence she was trying to ignore, the very man she had been lambasting in her head knocked Lizzy out of her reverie. "So, you don't play soccer, he stated lamely. Skepticism combined with scorn beset her features.

Lizzy thought that might have been a bad attempt at a pick-up line, which was rather pathetic and simultaneously disgusting, so she pushed the thought from her mind. "Isn't that obvious?" she asked testily.

"I suppose, but I figured I'd ask anyway," he replied.

"You see," Lizzy replied, "I have zero foot coordination, at least when it comes to foot-to-ball coordination. I played Lacrosse in the spring, which, for the record, is a far superior sport to soccer."

"Ah," Darcy replied. She couldn't discern any emotion in his voice, which was troubling. She thought he might be a robot or a droid or something – seriously, the guy never displayed _any_ emotion. "And I see your boyfriend played ice hockey in the winter."

Lizzy bristled at him, and his comment dripping with misogyny. "No," she replied, daggers in her voice, "I played field hockey. In the fall."

"Ah."

Both parties fell silent. Lizzy was irate, very irate, and she was fuming at his comments. She made no attempt to break the silence; talking with him was more painful even than the time Jane had plucked her eyebrows. Calculating how fast she could get away from this thug, Lizzy turned her total attention to the game, at least ostensibly.

Lizzy paid enough attention to observe the following soccer related phenomenon: Jane was playing well. Charlie, not so much. Charlotte had been relegated to defense, and was obviously itching to get some shots on the goal. And Fitz, was, well, Fitz: Everywhere all the time. He'd scored the only goal of the game, against the plump old goalkeeper, whose surprised Lizzy with his agility, despite his rather large girth.

After a while, though, Lizzy started to get bored. The black and white ball was at one end of the field and then the other, without any shots on goal (this was another reason Lacrosse was a far superior sport- people actually scored goals). Soccer got to be like baseball after a while: fun to play but boring to watch.

And then Caroline Bingley, Charles's absolute _angel_ of a sister, arrived, diverting Lizzy's attentions completely from the game. Lizzy gave her appearance a once over and found, quite to her amusement, that today Caroline looked something like a terrified moose. Her ginger Bingley hair was piled on top of her head in a carefully constructed mess. She donned the most bug-like sunglasses Lizzy had ever seen, and her coat had an enormous faux-fur collar/hood/stole thing, that looked ridiculous on her – like she'd wrapped the Bingley's cat, (whom Lizzy was quite fond of) around her neck and decided it looked fashionable. Apparently fur was in this winter, because sprouting from the tops of her boots was a different shade of faux-fur stuff. All in all, Lizzy thought Caroline's choice of clothing was absurd. And totally fake, just like her personality. Sometimes you really can judge a book by its cover: example A – Caroline Bingley, example B – Darcy, The Dark One, example C – Catcher in The Rye (the whole white cover, rainbow stripes thing was just as boring as the book itself, which she had been forced to read not only once, but _twice_, during High School).

Now that she had gotten the memo on what not to wear this winter, Lizzy was perfectly content to ignore Caroline Bingley, as usual. When Caroline made straight for her though, Lizzy was momentarily confused. And then the droid sitting next to her fidgeted a little, and everything clicked into place. Darcy _was_ staying at the Bingley's…

"Wi-ill!" she called, waving a mitten-ed hand in a sickly sweet manner. And it wasn't _that_ cold, either. The Dark One fidgeted again, but didn't rely. No surprise there. Cutting across the bleachers, she slid in next to him, and immediately draped her arms around him. "You enjoying the game?" she said huskily, nuzzling his neck. The droid made no acknowledgement of the parasite dripping all over him. Lizzy shot a disgusted look in their direction. If those two were a couple, she was _not_ going to intrude.

"Fancy seeing you here, Caroline," Lizzy greeted the girl as she rose to leave, her voice dripping with false cheerfulness. She paused. "Well, it looks as if I'll leaving right about now," she said jingling her car keys at her side, "You two have at it." The look on the droid's face was priceless, one of complete shock, mouth agape. Lizzy smiled smugly as she turned walked down the bleachers. Maybe he wasn't such a droid, after all.

* * *

_A/N: So, this is more of a set up chapter for the next one (look forward to some more Lizzy/Darcy sparks!). Still, I hope you enjoyed it. I know some of you might object to the Catcher in the Rye comment, but Catcher is a book you either love or hate; I've never met anyone indifferent to it.  
_

_And, as always, feedback is greatly appreciated._


	4. Chapter 4

**Race To The Finish - Chapter 4**

_"I know that you believe that you understood what you think I said, but I am not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant." - Robert McCloskey

* * *

_

Lizzy had had enough: enough soccer, enough cold bleachers, enough obnoxious people.

There was only one thing that could calm Lizzy's seething – the satisfying clunk of stick connecting with ball, and lighter pitched chink of ball connecting with cage.

Lizzy rummaged around in the trunk of her car till she uncovered an old stick and rather beat up ball. She ran a finger over the slick surface, and smiled contentedly. She tossed the ball upwards and caught it agilely, with a satisfying smack of hard plastic connecting with the palm of her hand. She slammed the trunk shut and set of jogging at a fair clip to the field.

It wasn't the first time Lizzy had returned to the field on which she had donned the blue and white of Howard High School. And yet every time she stood on the sideline, the empty field before her, she could practically see the little bits of her soul that had been left here, after an exhilarating upset or discouraging loss. Nostalgia washed over her and the memories, of her first goal, of beating a particularly good team, of her teammates, of all those practices, all came flooding back.

Lizzy smiled. This place, with it's freshly cut grass, made her simply happy.

Shouts of joy erupted behind her, tearing Lizzy from her reverie. She glanced over her shoulder towards the soccer field. She thought she could make out Fitz's sprightly form doing his post-goal celebration dancing, and rolled her eyes. Now, there was only one thing on her mind.

Dropping the ball to the ground, Lizzy clutched her stick in both hands and pushed it forward, dribbling towards the cage, her ball and stick working together in a yo-yo like rhythm. Having reached the top of the shooting circle, Lizzy gave the ball one more light tap forward before raising her stick, stepping forward, and driving the ball with force into the goal, a satisfactory sound ringing from the impact.

Lizzy was in her element, completely and utterly focused on the task at hand: between her stick, the ball, and the open mouth of the goal. This rhythm continued as her muscles began to ache, which only spurned her on even more.

That is, until a sharp, "Elizabeth," startled her, her stick flying unceremoniously out of her hand as she whirled around to glare at her intruder.

It was him.

Of course, her day had just been looking up again, after the whole Caroline disturbance, and he had to come ruin it. Somewhere in the deep recess of her brain, Lizzy forced herself to admit he had some guts, though she quickly forced this thought back into the dark corner where it belonged.

She glared at him.

"It's Lizzy, to you," she spat at him.

"Sorry, I…" he mumbled awkwardly. Lizzy didn't dignify it with a reply.

After a moment's pause, "So, you got bored with the soccer game," he said, trying to strike up a conversation.

"Yes, I did, Captain Obvious," she replied.

"So field hockey," he said awkwardly, taking a step towards her, "interesting sport."

"I speak English," she shot back, snarkily, "which requires the use of full sentences containing both a subject and a predicate for the comprehension of another party." She glanced at the goal before glancing back at the exceedingly obnoxious man standing before her. "Now if you'll excuse me, I would very much like to return to the activity of my initial intent."

Lizzy stooped down to pick up her stick, and pushing the ball a little our in front of her began to drive the ball, her stick swung back, when the dark haired one beside her interrupted her again.

"Would you like to explain field hockey to me?" he asked. Lizzy whirled around and glared at him.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly.

"For you to explain the rules of field hockey to me," he replied falteringly, bewilderment splashed across his face.

"I'm not that stupid," she shot back, rather irate, at both his arrogance and stupidity. "I heard you the first time, Darcy. I reiterate: what do you want from me?"

"To explain-" Lizzy cut him off.

"Fine," she exclaimed, with an exasperated tone, "like any other field sport, the object of field hockey is to hit the ball into the goal." She paused and glared at him, ire coursing through every fiber of her being. "Now, why are you bothering me? If you're looking for a snogging partner, I swear, Caroline Bingley's far better suited for the role."

Darcy closed his eyes slowly, his patience obviously near the breaking point. "Lizzy," he said slowly and deliberately, "I am sorry for bothering you, and in the future I will refrain from your company, as it obviously aggravates you so." He turned on his heel and stalked off the field.

Lizzy returned her focus back to the stick in her hand and ball lying at the perfect distance for a nice, solid drive. "That bastard!" she exclaimed, the final syllable simultaneous with the sharp sound of stick connecting with ball.

It was an old exercise, but therapeutic one nevertheless. For the remaining minutes of the soccer game being played in the background, Lizzy imagined the field hockey ball as Darcy's head and smacked it into oblivion.

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_A/N: Well, it's been a long time since I last posted, but the real world could not be ignored, even for a few hours. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and now that it's summer, subsequent chapters should be coming at a quicker clip. As always, comments are greatly appreciated. This chapter is dedicated to the lovely L who has been encouraging me to update._


	5. Chapter 5

**Race To The Finish - Chapter 5**

_"We rarely think people have good sense unless they agree with us." - Francois de La Rochefoucauld

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_

Lizzy was contemplating what kind of shot she would attempt next (her reverse chip had been rather accurate today) when a small, chilly hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"Liz-" the voice belonging to the hand began.

Lizzy interrupted it. "What do you want _now_?" she exclaimed, exasperation and contempt filling her voice, as she whirled around to face the intruder.

Now looking strait at said intruder, Lizzy realized that it was _not_ the Droid, as she had thought, and in fact her lovely sister, with blonde, windswept hair, and a confused expression. On second, thought, the Dark One's hand was probably bigger than Jane's.

"Sorry," Lizzy mumbled. Jane arched an eyebrow at her sister.

"You have some 'splainin' to do, Sis," she said quietly, "however, the game's over so you no longer need to sequester yourself. Come on, let's get in the car where it's warm." Lizzy could not help but agree with Jane's last assertion, and followed wordlessly behind her sister, and away from the unusual comfort of the expanse of the hockey field.

The car seemed cozier than usual, but Lizzy still snuggled into her sweatshirt. A scowl was still etched onto her face, but she was content with the companionable silence between them as they waited in traffic to exit the parking lot. Turning out onto the road it was Lizzy who spoke first:

"So how'd the game go?" she asked conversationally. Her light tone belied the ire that was still fuming underneath. Jane burst into a huge grin.

"We lost," she said. Lizzy furrowed her eyebrows.

"You're happy about that?"

"Well, no," Jane replied, tearing her eyes from the road to glance at her sister, "but it was _soo_ much fun. And Fitz was hilarious. And Charlie played really well. And Charlotte had some nice plays." Jane paused, a dreamy expression drifting onto her face. "I haven't played soccer in so long, Lizzy. I've been so busy and it was so nice just to romp around and not have to worry about running wind sprints if you lost. It was exhilarating Lizzy. Really, it was."

Lizzy couldn't help but smile fondly at her sister. Jane's sincerity could always lift Lizzy from a foul mood. Now, was no exception. Staying out of a foul mood was more difficult.

"So how was your morning?" Jane asked her sister with a frothy cheeriness that annoyed Lizzy almost as much as the actual content of the question.

Lizzy crossed her arms over chest and stared out the windshield. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Mmh, really?" Jane asked. Lizzy shot her sister a nasty glare.

"This is when having a twin is _really_ annoying," she groused.

"But you still love me," Jane replied teasingly, though with a sheepish smile.

"Of course I do." Lizzy paused, fiddling with the drawstring of her sweatshirt, as she continued, "However, at times like this you know me too well."

Jane ignored Lizzy's last comment, and replied, "Fine, do the whole moody, brooding thing till we get home and then I expect you to spill."

Lizzy rolled her eyes, but consented by saying nothing in return and stared out the windshield.

Needless to say, the rest of the car ride was completely silent.

After Jane had pulled the car into the garage and, meticulous as always, put on the parking brake, she sprinted from the driver's seat and into the house. Lizzy followed glumly, unsure of why her stomach was churning inauspiciously.

Several minutes later, Lizzy had settled herself comfortably on her bed, with a book open in front of her. However her eyes were scanning the same couple sentences over and over and her brain was failing to make any sense out of it. _Where in the world is Jane?_ plagued her thoughts.

Though it seemed like forever, Lizzy did not have to wait long for her sister's arrival. Jane burst through the door, a book in hand, and sat down primly in the overstuffed chair nestled into a corner of Lizzy's room.

"What in the world took you so long?" Lizzy asked her sister, rather harshly.

"I was looking for a book in Dad's study," Jane replied in a matter-a-fact tone that served to irritate Lizzy even further. "In fact," Jane continued, "I think it's one of your favorites: Spoon River Anthology." She paused, "but first I think you should tell me what happened."

"Nothing happened," a moody Lizzy replied tersely.

"Really?" Jane asked probingly.

"Ugh fine," Lizzy exclaimed with an exasperated sigh, " If you must know I was sitting in the bleachers and the Droid shows up and decides to sit right next to me, out of all the other potential places he could have sat. And then Caroline shows up and puts on an absolutely disgusting display. And so I left, looking for some peace and quiet-"

"-And you were bored with the game-" Jane interjected.

"True," Lizzy continued," and so I ran to the car and got my stick and went out onto the hockey field, taking some shots, dribbling, just messing around, and _he_ shows up and asks me to explain the rules of field hockey to him. Well, I told him and his arrogant self to buzz off and leave me alone. And go back to Caroline, because she was obviously a better snogging partner. And he left, thank god. And for the rest of your game I imagined his head as the ball and hammered it into cage repeatedly."

"No wonder he looked peeved at the end of the game," Jane intoned conversationally, "And you've obviously read Harry Potter too many times. _Snog_? Seriously?" Lizzy shrugged, finding no objection with her word choice, but not wanting to push the issue. Kiss can have so many different connotations, she mused, and in the heat of the moment she hadn't stopped to consider how odd her use of British slang might have sounded. Jane paused and then awkwardly continued. "So," she said, gesturing to the book in her hand, "There's one bit from here I think I should read to you."

Lizzy nodded, slightly bewildered by the conversation, especially because she knew Jane was no fan of Edgar Lee Master's masterpiece. Sensing that Lizzy wasn't going to interject, Jane ploughed on: She cleared her throat and cracked open the well read tome. "_Trainor the Druggist_," she announced and then continued reading:

"_Only the chemist can tell, and not always the chemist,_

_What will result from compounding_

_Fluids or solids._

_And who can tell_

_How men and women will interact_

_On each other, or what children will result?_

_There were Benjamin Pantier and his wife,_

_Good in themselves, but evil towards each other:_

_He oxygen, she hydrogen,_

_Their son a devastating fire._"

Contemplative silence hung in the air for several seconds. Lizzy scratched her head and finally blurted, "Aren't there a couple more lines?"

Jane nodded. "Yes, but they're not relevant."

Lizzy furrowed her brow. "How is the rest of it relevant? At all?" she asked belligerently.

"It sort of explains your relationship with Darcy," Jane replied, unfazed by Lizzy's tone of voice.

Lizzy scowled even more as she contemplated what Jane had just said. "So, according to your friend Edgar, The Droid and I are going to get married and have a messed up son." Lizzy paused and looked at her sister with a face that was dangerously sarcastic. "I have to respectfully disagree with your assessment, Miss Bennet, for two reasons. First of all I never marry someone as arrogant and conceited as the Droid who drives an Escalade. Not only will I never marry someone like him, he will _not_ be getting in my pants anytime soon. That I can assure you of."

Jane looked at her twin with a pained expression. "Okay, so the finer points are a bit off, but some of it is still relevant," she said in a pained voice. "You cannot deny that there is a roaring fire between the two of you. Secondly, you are each good people in and of yourselves."

Lizzy glared at her sister. "He is not a good person Jane. He drives an Escalade and totally dissed Charles in front of everybody, and has probably slept with Caroline Bingley. You are far too inclined to think well of people, Jane."

Jane sighed and set down the book. She leaned forward before addressing her sister. "Elizabeth Bennet," she began softly. Lizzy stiffened at the use of her full name, but did not interrupt. "Darcy spoke with Charles and I after the game. He was very pleasant, rather formal, but he asked if I was enjoying my break from school, and complemented my play in the game." She paused, "And he's Charles's best friend, and for that reason alone, I am inclined to think he can't be all bad."

Lizzy glared at her sister. Stifling silence fell between the sisters, causing Jane to drop her eyes to her lap and fiddle with the hem of her t-shirt.

When Jane could bare the silence no longer, she looked back at her sister and said even more softly than before: "The thing is Lizzy, I think you like Darcy. Like him a lot."

"This is not some cheesy romance novel, Jane," Lizzy shot back crossly. "I _DO NOT_ like Mr. Darcy, and I never will like him. Ever. End of conversation."

The conversation was thus over, and Jane left the room quietly, closing the door behind her. Lizzy tossed the book that had been laying on her bed roughly to the floor, and buried herself in the covers of her bed.

She was still furious. At Darcy, and Caroline, and even her twin, but the intense fire inside of her slowly began to fizzle out. Her ire was still smoldering, especially towards the Droid, but she began to recount, and perhaps the reconsider, the events of the morning.

Lizzy couldn't get her sister's final statement out of her head. It rung in her ears and tormented her thoughts. Could her sister be right? Could she really hold feelings for this abominable man?

Lizzy fell asleep in the cocoon of her covers pondering these thoughts. When she awoke, there was a peanut butter & jelly sandwich sitting on her bedside table, with a note sitting on top. Lizzy lifted up the plate and set it in her lap, picking up the note and inspecting it. It was in her sister's tidy script.

_Liz,_

_I brought you a sandwich for lunch. I had a feeling you didn't want to face Mom and Dad quite yet._

_While you were asleep, I was thinking back to our elementary school days, and how at recess you would always play kickball or soccer with the boys. You were faster than most of them, and unafraid to scuffle with them while the rest of us girls were petrified that boys had cooties. In middle school, you would always want to partner with a guy for school projects. They "easier to handle." And in high school, you dated one person, and it was more of a lark than a relationship. The day George dumped you, Fitz took you paintballing, and you came back muddy, bruised, laughing and exhilarated. Most girls would have sulked for at least a week before venturing into public._

_By now you are probably groaning, and rather annoyed at me, but sometimes it takes other people to bring out the best in ourselves._

_Love,_

_J.B._

Lizzy read the note through twice before biting hungrily into her favorite type of sandwich.

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_A/N: So, yay for a relatively quick update. This chapter is substantially longer than the previous ones. Quicker updates + longer chapter_ _= reading fun!_ _In case you are unfamiliar with Spoon River Anthology, it is a collections of free verse poems, with each poem from the point of view of a dead person (speaking from the grave) in a fictional small, rurual Illinois town. As the book progresses, and people begin to speak about each other (as in this case) a colorful, and often melencholy, picture imerges. It is a fabulous book and an American classic. I highly recomend it. And thank your for your continuing support as this story continues to unfold. As always reviews are welcome, appreciated, and loved. __And yes, that was a reference to George Wickham. *winks*  
_


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